


Tomorrow May Not Come Again

by terramous



Series: tk needs a hug [1]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Get some tissues its hella sad, Hospitalization, Hurt TK, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Overdosing, Relapsing, Suicide Attempt, an illegal amount of pet names, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terramous/pseuds/terramous
Summary: “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”“I-” TK choked on the words. “I made a mistake.”The TK relapse/overdose fic literally no one asked for
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, TK & Everyone
Series: tk needs a hug [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750006
Comments: 13
Kudos: 275
Collections: 9-1-1 Lone Star ▶ Carlos Reyes / Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand





	Tomorrow May Not Come Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 9-1-1 Lone Star fic because I literally binged the whole season yesterday and i have FEELINGS  
> so this is super OOC for everyone 
> 
> also in case you missed it in the tags  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TK relapses and intentionally overdoses it's not fun
> 
> I have personally never overdosed and this is filled to the brim with medical inaccuracies because i only did a little bit of research, none of which improving the quality of this

The worst thing is when it isn’t the big things that break you. It’s not someone he’s lost on a call or someone he loves getting hurt. It’s the emptiness of the house on his day off and the fact that he can’t find his other sock. And it breaks him. 

Nothing big happened so he wasn’t being swarmed with texts from the 126 asking him how he was holding up and what he was doing. He wished someone was there, even on the other side of a screen. Just to give him any feasible distraction from his thoughts.

But the silence lingered and T.K. couldn’t stand the feeling of his skin on his body or the air in his lungs. He needed out. His mind was screaming at him, begging him to fix in either the best or worst way he knew how. 

Digging his fingers at the skin of his thigh, T.K. tried to pull himself from his mind and away from the edge. But even as rivulets of blood dripped onto the bathroom tile, he couldn’t think of anything other than the orange bottle he had hidden inside a spare roll of toilet paper under the sink. A terrible and risky hiding place in the long run. If only there for a few days nestled as far back as he could reach, his father wouldn’t even notice it. 

He wasn’t strong enough.

He knew that the high of a few pills would make him feel better, would ease his mind as he rode out the high. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the worried looks, or the calling of a bottle of oxy just to scratch that itch in his head or the fact that he was just going to disappoint everyone he loved. Might as well get it over and done with sooner or later. He didn’t want Carlos to see him give in, a weak addict who can’t live without a fix. He didn’t want Carlos to be there for relapses, trying to support him out of love. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t fair for anyone. 

It was then that he had the pill bottle in his hand, almost full of hauntingly white release. 

Unscrewing the cap, he dumped the contents in his hand and stared at them. He had to remind himself that this would be best for everyone. He’d never have to feel the craving for a high again. He wouldn’t continue to drag his father down with him. He wouldn’t tie an anchor to Carlos’ foot. 

It was unfair to linger on his craving for a happy life with Carlos, with his team, because he knew it was impossible. He was broken. Damaged. Irreparable. This was for the best. 

Everyone would be free.

He downed the pills like he had so many times before.

🖤

T.K. gently nestled himself atop his bed, fingers trailing over the soft surface of the blanket beneath him. He knew he wouldn’t feel anything yet, but he anticipated the feelings that he was all too familiar with. He felt bad, of course he did. He’d moved to Austin to get away from the way that the memories of his last overdose permeated the city. Away from the opioid crisis that made it too easy to get those pills in his hands, too easy to get that release he craved and couldn’t find otherwise. 

He’d gotten clean. He’d be healing and making a life for himself in Texas, the future was bright. And then it wasn’t. It was hard to pinpoint when it had started getting worse, when he didn’t feel like he was getting better anymore, when he stopped seeing any future beyond the here and now. 

Guilt was the next feeling. Guilt because his father was going to have to come home and find his body. Guilt because they share a house to prevent this exact situation. Guilt because things had been going so well with Carlos and this was how they’d end.

It was then that T.K.’s phone pinged and the light from his screen cast a blue hue across the room. A text. From Carlos. Of course.

T.K.’s hand was trembling far more than it should have as he reached for the phone, craving any last shred of time with the man that he loved.

**Carlos🥰: Hey T.K., can you come over later? I think we need to talk about the other day**

There were tears flooding from his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them away as the droplets began to hit his bare, shaking forearms. The other day. The fight. The look in Carlos’ eyes when T.K. flinched from his touch, reinforced only by how he had snapped at the cop. It was over nothing, just T.K. itching for a fix. He couldn’t confess that he’d been using again, he couldn’t do that to Carlos, to his father, to himself. 

**T.K.: cant do tonight :-( sorry**

“I can’t do this.” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing and he couldn’t catch his breath. “I don’t wanna die.” His shaking fingers fumbled for his phone and dialled the number he had etched into his cells.

_“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”_

“I-” T.K. choked on the words. “I made a mistake.”

_“What did you do, sir?”_

“Please, I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die. I can’t.”

_“What’s your name sir?”_

“T.K. Strand.”

_“Hey T.K., it’s Grace Ryder. Are you at home?”_

Of course, the one call he made to 9-1-1 would connect through to Grace. T.K. felt sick, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the pills or the dread that Judd’s wife was going to hear him die. 

“Yes.” He idly wondered how much Grace knew about his addiction from Judd.

_“What did you take?” She knew._

__

__

“Oxy.” 

_“How much did you take?”_

“Half-- no- the whole bottle. Almost. I dropped some. Fuck, Grace-” His voice cracked, “I don’t wanna die.” 

_“Alright, T.K., help is on the way. Can you stay on the line for me?”_

“Who’s coming?”

_“Not the 126. They’re on call for a housefire. Fire station 041 and Officer Reyes are en route.”_

Officer Reyes. Carlos. Carlos was going to see him like this. 

“Carlos?”

_“Yes, Officer Reyes was nearby and it’s best that someone is there until the paramedics arrive if you’re overdosing.”_

It made sense. T.K. was a firefighter, he knew this, but the idea of putting Carlos through the same thing he’d put his father through back in New York terrified T.K.. There was nothing he wanted more than to be held by Carlos. But he didn’t want Carlos to see how broken he truly was. 

It’s much easier to pretend he’s got his addiction under control when he leans across the bar and orders a mineral water with a smile on his face. Lying on his bed with a stomach full of pills, however, he couldn’t pretend anymore. 

_“Can you try to keep talking to me T.K.? Where in your house are you?”_

“My bedroom.”

_“How’re you feeling?”_

“Like ass that someone left in a puddle. I can’t stop shaking, but I’m conscious so that’s gotta count for something.” 

_“How long has it been since you took the pills?”_

“An hour I think, I’m not sure.”

Grace prattled off questions for what felt like forever more standard inquiries about his condition that were no doubt being forwarded to Carlos in the form of _“Hurry up, he’s getting worse”_ , that was until T.K. interrupted her.

“I used to wonder if I was happier when I was using. But I wasn’t, I was just riding highs because I wanted to feel something. Hey, Grace?”

_“Yes, T.K.?”_

“If I don’t make it. Can you pass on some messages from this recording for me?”

He heard Grace suck in an anxious breath. _“Yes, of course.”_

“I- Can you tell my dad that it’s not his fault? He did everything right and he took such good care of me despite everything. He even brought me all the way from New York to Texas because he wanted to make sure I was safe. And it worked, it’s not his fault. It’s mine, and I’m so sorry. He gave me the best second chances my whole life and always took care of me despite everything. And I love him for all he’s done for me, he didn’t have to.

“And the 126. They’re my family y’know? And I love them. They have always made me feel so loved and welcome and they have had my back so many times. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have theirs more often. 

“Tell Judd that even though we got off on the wrong foot, that I’m so glad to have had the chance to know him. He didn’t like me so much coming in here and marching around as an outsider but he always had my back. I hope you both live long and happy lives and someday have beautiful children. I know he’d love that. 

“And Paul needs to find someone who will love him for who he is because he’s a phenomenal man and an even better cook. 

“Marjan needs to be more careful even though she’s incredible. A viral video is not worth her life. But regardless of that, she’s such a powerful and strong inspiring woman who will do such great things in the future, I’m sure of it. 

“Mateo is going to make such an incredible firefighter now that he’s passed that dumb test and I’m so proud of him, he’s like my little brother.” 

He wasn’t crying anymore, just strangely muted to everything. Probably because he felt the drowsiness and nausea overtaking him and as tragic as it was, the feeling was so familiar to him. 

“Carlos. I want Carlos to know that it’s not his fault either. He’s gonna think it is, he’s just got a big dumb heart and carries the weight of everything on his shoulders. I wish he wouldn’t sometimes. He needs to put himself first but he’s always worried about everyone else. I can ask him how he is and he’ll ask me if I’ve eaten yet. He’s so full of love and I hope he can move on and find someone better to give all that love to, y’know? I love him a lot, and I never wanted to hurt him, especially not like this. But by the time he gets here I’m going to be nothing but a dead addict who couldn’t handle going without a fix even though I had the best people, the best man, by my side the whole time. I just want you to tell him that I loved him and he couldn’t have done anything better.” 

_“You’ll be able to tell them yourself, okay?” Officer Reyes and the paramedics are only a few minutes away. You’ll make it through this.”_

T.K. laughed, he couldn’t help it. A dry and humourless chuckle as he stared at the ceiling. “You know, I’ve done this enough times to know when I’m gonna die, Grace.” T.K. wondered if Carlos would be in his calm and collected cop-mode when he arrived, the stoic face that knew exactly what to do in stressful situations. 

_“You haven’t been correct yet, you’re not about to start today.”_

“How do you stay so optimistic? I’m lying here dying and you’re keeping your cool so well.”

_“The secret is not letting you hear me lose my cool.”_

Then he heard the sirens. A wail that flew through the air. “Emergency” it announced to his neighbours and random passersby. 

“He’s here.” Carlos was here. Exactly when T.K. least wanted him to be around ever before.

 _“That’s great, just hold on T.K., you’re gonna make it.”_ What a promise to make to a dying man. Well, he assumes that she's either going to be right or he'll be too dead to care if she was wrong.

The noise of the front door being thrown open seemed muted but the call of “T.K.?!” was piercing. Like a meteorite hurtling to earth, T.K. needed to be closer to Carlos. With the last of his strength he managed a few steps away from the bed and towards the door before his knees buckled and he hit the floor. 

Unmistakably, Carlos would have heard the thud, loud and clear through the almost empty house. 

“T.K.?!” he could hear Carlos running now, the strong beats of the other man’s shoes against the hardwood floors resonating in the air. “Tyler?!” Carlos was screaming his name now. 

And then he was there. All of a sudden there were hands on either side of T.K.’s face, holding him with such tenderness but urgency. 

“T.K.? T.K. can you hear me?”

T.K. smiled. At least he thought he did, it probably looked more like a grimace to Carlos. “You came.” All he wanted was to indulge in Carlos’ touch, to bury his face in the man’s chest and inhale his scent like he had done so many times before.

“Of course I did. I love you.” Carlos’ fingers were on his neck now, feeling his pulse as he gave his watch a death stare. T.K. knew it was bad, he was just dreading the moment that Carlos realised it too. “You sound really weird.”

“When you overdose on opiates it gets hard to breathe. I bet I’m super hot all clammy and blue-lipped right now.” T.K. almost felt bad when he saw Carlos recoil at the words, probably not wanting to face it. But when you’re teetering on the precipice of death it seems like the time for brutal honesty. “Wouldn’t it be pretty neat if you had some narcan on you right now, huh?” 

It was probably cruel that he was joking about dying when Carlos was panicking and trying to keep him alive until the paramedics arrived. “If you make it through this, I’ll keep narcan in my back pocket.”

T.K. didn’t miss the way Carlos said ‘if’ instead of ‘when’. That meant he looked like he wasn’t going to make it to the hospital. That Carlos thought he was going to watch his kind-of-boyfriend die. T.K. suddenly felt a million times worse about joking about his condition. “I’m sorry for yelling at you the other day.” 

“It’s because you were using, right? No- don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you don’t die right now.” Carlos was gentle as he turned T.K. onto his side, carefully arranging him into the recovery position. 

“I’m sorry you have to find me like this.”

“As opposed to finding your dead body?” Carlos grit out. T.K. could see the tears he was desperately trying not to spill, an attempt to keep calm enough to do his job. “Stop apologising and _live.”_

“I regretted taking the pills the moment you texted me. I forgot how much you mean to me so briefly and I lost myself. And now I’m gonna die before I can ever tell you how much I love you. We don’t have enough time right now to go over absolutely everything I love about you, Carlos.” 

“Is- Is that why you said you couldn’t come over tonight? Because you expected to be in a body bag by then?” Carlos was crying now, his hands shaking as he ran a thumb over T.K.’s cheekbone. This time his voice was much softer and saturated in what T.K. could only describe as terror and misery, “You were going to leave me forever with a text?” 

“No-” T.K. wheezed as he tried to suck in a breath despite his rapidly declining condition. “I got Grace to give you a message from me.”

“I know. I heard it baby, she forwarded it to me.”

“Not the romantic confession you were hoping for, huh?”

“I would love for it to be under any other circumstance that you told me you loved me. But I’ll forgive you if you pull through, sound like a deal?”

T.K. could feel himself slipping as a vignette of darkness encroached his vision. He reached for Carlos’ wrist, feebly wrapping his fingers around it. He knew what was coming next. Bliss for him and hell for Carlos. He wanted to apologise to Carlos but he knew at this point, as he couldn’t push air past his lips, that he’d never get to. 

“T.K.?” Carlos was alarmed, frantically scrambling onto his knees next to T.K.. “Hey. Hey, keep your eyes open for me. Please.”

The last thing he heard as darkness enveloped him was a wretched cry of his name.

🖤

The beeping. The uncomfortable bed. The smell of cleaning products. T.K. knew exactly where he was. He wasn’t dead, which on its own was surprising. 

“Carlos?” He croaked before he even had the chance to open his eyes. His throat was scratchy and his mouth dry but he needed to know if Carlos was okay. 

“Hey, I’m here.” There was a hand on his face and another on his upper arm in an instant. “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?” 

With a groan, T.K. managed to pry his eyelids open, blinking rapidly at the light. As his vision cleared he could see Carlos’ face hovering above him, a million questions and worries sparkling in his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Carlos sighed, the tension bleeding from his body. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask me that,” Carlos huffed, settling back into his chair next to the bed, his hand still on T.K.’s wrist.

“But you were there when I passed out. I know what that did to my dad, are you okay?” 

“We’re starting a book club for everyone who's had to resuscitate you.” T.K. hadn’t noticed until just now, the shadows of Carlos’ face. Dark circles around his eyes, tear tracks covering his cheeks and what looked like Carlos had been gnawing on his bottom lip till it bled.

T.K. felt horribly guilty. As he knew he should when the whole situation can be reduced down to ‘T.K. can’t handle anything’. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. The only thing that matters is that you’re alive.”

“Hey, Reyes, I managed to score us some muffins, I thought you should eat somethi-” Owen stopped dead in his tracks at the door. “T.K.?”

“Hi, Dad.” T.K. smiled awkwardly, this really needed to stop being a common occurrence. His father looked beat, dark circles and his hair the most unkempt that T.K. thinks it’s ever been. 

Carlos got up to take the coffee cups and paper bag out of Owen’s hands and set them to the side before returning to his former position next to T.K., maintaining contact with the young firefighter. 

Owen carefully wrapped his arms around T.K., careful not to jostle him. “How’re you feeling?” 

“I’m okay, just tired.”

“ _You’re_ tired? You’ve been snoozing for two days. I don’t think I’ve seen Officer Reyes leave your side, let alone sleep.”

T.K. shot Carlos an incredulous look that was just met with a sheepish shrug. 

“Go to sleep.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why haven’t you slept?”

Sighing, Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “You being in a coma and my emotional wellbeing do not mix.”

“I’m sorry.” T.K. pushed himself up so that he was sitting cross-legged in the bed. He just wanted to be closer to Carlos, to hold him and say he was sorry a million times because it never seemed to be enough to make T.K. feel better about the stress he continually seemed to be putting on Carlos.

“It’s okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were using again?” Owen interrupted, his gaze was stony but Carlos had seen enough tears from this man in the past few days to know that it was nothing but a facade of a dad scared for his son.

T.K. averted his eyes, choosing instead to look at the end of his hospital bed. “I was scared.”

“Of?”

“It would ruin everything. You’d bench me. Everyone would get sick of me and leave and then we’d be back to you wondering what little things will set off a broken little T.K. and what I’ll take and how many times can I escape death because it seems like I’m not supposed to still be breathing but every single time I am.”

The look on both Owen and Carlos’ faces told T.K. that he really said that. Out loud. To their faces. Fuck.

“Kid, you need to tell someone when things are getting bad.” Owen dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. “Everyone just wants to support you and keep you safe. All I want is for my son to not be six feet underground before me.” 

“It’s hard.” That’s all the words T.K. could muster up to say and it didn’t feel like enough but Owen’s face softened.

“I know it is. But please remember that regardless of anything, I will never be upset or angry with you for telling me what’s going on in your head or asking for help.”

“I just think I can handle these things on my own and by the time I realise I can’t I…” T.K. trailed off, but Owen understood. 

T.K. spent some time just leaning against his father as Owen ran his fingers through T.K.’s hair, indulging in yet another miracle. His son was safe and in his arms again. 

The peace was interrupted by Owen’s phone going off. He peered at the screen. “It’s Judd. More likely the team asking for updates. I’m gonna answer this but I’ll be just outside okay?” 

“Tell them I said hi,” T.K. grinned.

As soon as Owen was out in the corridor, phone pressed to his ear, Carlos turned to T.K.. “I know it feels like everything will fall apart if you do, but I want you to talk to me if you ever relapse or consider relapsing, and especially if you feel like you need to take your own life. If not as a pseudo-boyfriend or a friend, talk to me as a cop. It’s my job to keep you safe and if you need help I’ll be right here for you. I can call someone for you, I can drop you home, I can take you to the hospital, I can hold onto your keys for the night. Hell, you can even spend a night down at the station if you feel like you won’t be able to handle it on your own. You are worthy of help, T.K., it is not bad or burdensome to ask for it. I’ll stay with you until you ask me to leave.”

“That’s not fair on you. What if I’m just broken? All I am is an addict and that’s all I’ll ever be, it’s just relapse after relapse. Attempt after attempt.”

Carlos leant forward to cup T.K.’s cheek with his spare hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. I don’t think you remember but I did tell you that I love you.”

“On my bedroom floor, because you thought I was going to die.”

“That doesn’t make the statement any less true. And I know you’re still working through things and you don’t want a relationship at this point in time but I’ll help you now, as a friend if you’ll let me. And sometime in the future, because there is going to be one with both you and I in it, maybe we could be more than that. I’m fine waiting as long as it means you’re comfortable and alive.”

T.K. pointed at Carlos with his free hand. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What about what you need? I’m pretty sure I said it but you worry about other people too much.”

“Darling, the only thing I need right now is to see you awake and breathing. That’s enough for me.” 

“Thank you.” T.K.’s voice was nothing but a whisper but he knew that Carlos heard him. 

Carlos, despite how exhausted he looked, smiled at T.K.. “You don’t have to feel like you’re alone in this anymore.”

They sat in silence for a while. Neither of them finding the words they needed to fill the empty air but still basking in each other’s presence, conscious and safe. 

“Hey, Carlos?” T.K. immediately regretted saying anything, seeing how close Carlos was to dozing off as the cop raised his head.

“Mmm?” 

“Why have you been holding my wrist this whole time?” T.K. straightened his posture enough to see that Carlos’ fingers were pressed to his pulse point, as they had been since he woke up and probably before then.

Carlos shifted uncomfortably under T.K.’s gaze which was unusual as he tended to be the more stable and confident of the two. “So I know you’re still there. Still alive. Still breathing.”

“I scared you, didn’t I?”

“Understatement of the century. When you stopped breathing I swear I felt the whole world come crashing down. I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t give up on me.”

“After that?” Carlos raised T.K.’s hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckle. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 24 Floors - The Maine  
> I suck at dialogue why did I write a dialogue heavy fic? the world may never know. i also haven't written in 6 months ya boy is RUSTY.  
> [tumblr](https://sunsetcxrve.tumblr.com/)


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